Page 104 of Monster's Pretty Bride

My pulse jumps. What?

I glance at Naranus, waiting for an explanation, but his golden eyes are locked on me, intense, unwavering. The world narrows, the noise fading.

He moves.

In his hands, flowers.

My heart stops.

The giggling starts. The women whispering to one another, hands pressed to their lips, eyes gleaming with knowing amusement.

Naranus, the terrifying warlord, presenting me with flowers?

I think I’ve stopped breathing.

The man who once snarled at me for getting too close, who has fought wars and survived curses, who has seen entire civilizations crumble beneath his might, now stands before me, offering delicate moon-blossoms like some bashful suitor.

Heat creeps up my neck. Oh gods.

“Naranus, what are you doing?” My voice comes out hoarse, strangled.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t falter.

Instead, he steps forward, closing the distance between us, his clawed fingers brushing mine as he places the flowers in my hands.

He kneels.

Gasps ripple through the crowd.

My mind goes blank.

Naranus kneeling? In front of me?

His gaze burns, sharp as steel, heavy with meaning. “Eryss,” he says, voice deep, rich. “I have fought for many things. Killed for many more. But I have never fought for something like this. Like you.”

A lump lodges in my throat.

“I am yours,” he continues, unwavering. Raw. Open. “I ask you to be mine. To stand beside me—not as an obligation, not as a duty, but as my mate.”

My vision blurs.

He lifts his hands, palms up, offering them in the way of his people. “In the way of my kind, I bind myself to you.” His voice softens, golden eyes piercing. “And in the way of yours, I ask you to bind yourself to me.”

The silence is deafening.

The fire crackles. The wind stirs. My heart threatens to shatter my ribcage.

This is real. This is happening.

I sway where I stand, legs trembling, emotions crashing over me in waves.

Everything we have endured. Every battle, every loss, every sacrifice, led us here.

Suddenly, there is no hesitation.

I sink to my knees, meeting him there, clutching the flowers so tightly the petals crumple against my palms.

“Yes,” I breathe, the word barely escaping before I’m grabbing him, before I’m kissing him like I’ll never stop.

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